AUDIOPOST BY YUKI AKA PRISMA TBFKA MUSEUM:
So many times, in my life I've felt myself like I was just lurking other people's lives from a keyhole. Like an intruder, ain't that sick?
Uninvited, craving to share just a little slice of that joyful cake of euphoria and adventure, recklessness and freedom of speech.
No, don't do this to me, crazy brain of mine! Don't leave me down again, don't make me think I'm not worth it!
I long for your loving embrace, oh life, oh heaven on earth, like the rush of blood that runs from my feet to my head.
I miss the feeling of upcoming chance to meet you, somewhere, in this crowded city.
I miss the butterflies in my stomach, any time the tought of you thinking about me reached my stream of consciousness in my daily life.
I miss the words blown out from your head to reach mine, such a sweet illusion!
The club of artists we never reached is a thing of the past. Just wondering why we never spoke about it before.
Never thought of you like that. Until the day he said you liked blondes. Until the very moment you showed your interest in what I was saying. How strange.
Until the time you looked at me through a lens, shy director of a never seen movie.
I can still remember that party. I was dancing the whole night through with him, my guardian angel, my first and only love.
I was joyful and shiny and dancing my whole pain out of my body. I was wearing my best smiles, while the music reached down to my intimate feelings and brought them out to your attention.
I never saw you that night, but I am sure I felt your eyes upon me.
Many days after that night, another party was held. I didn't show up. Maybe that door was ment to never be opened.
We never had a chance to let our talents dance together.
Reality? Immagination? Everything mixes up like bloody hell in my head.
We sometimes all suffer from memory lack.
That's not my case. I'd rather say I suffer from memory excess.
Soundtrack: False Alarms - Clay & Electronic Cowboys
Voice : Yuki AKA Prisma TBFKA MusEum
Thanks to Paul Abbott for the inspiration.
Who The Hell Am I?
- Prisma
- A prismatic music lover and... "The Blogger Formally Known As MusEum"
Creative Commons
Bottles Floating On The Edge Of Life by Yuki AKA Prisma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribuzione-Non commerciale-Non opere derivate 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at bottlesfloatingontheedgeoflife.blogspot.com. CLICK HERE TO MAIL ME. I WON'T BITE, I PROMISE! ;)
Listen To:
Listen to RADIO PAZZA!
4 answers:
I used to dream about being in a club of artists ... nowadays I hate the idea, I hate to always feel like unaccepted by an elite.
Bak
You are right! But in reality I don't mean the elite, the conventional club of bourgeois artists...
It's more like a club of artistic souls, what I'd really love to be part of.
But maybe, we already are, without knowing...
I feel something that remind me to Snow, Rain, Dolphin, shovel snow and DANCE. Maybe it's a my mistake...
You talk about doors and dance, you talk about love, dream and chance. None of this things handle with a memory excess.
The memory exceed just when the program working bad. Your program is well structured and efficient on semantic and syntactic point of view. You will never have problems. Your program will ever run ok?!
Have a nice Sunday Yuki!
Roberto
Really? I didn't think about that while I was writing, but maybe everything just fits in like a puzzle piece.
Nice to hear that my program runs well from an ingeneer! Lucky me! :)
I really hope not to disappoint you, I'll do my best not to fail.
Have a nice week!
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